For Old Times' Sake
by Essayel
Summary: Louisa Mercator, astrologer for the Daily Prophet, is alone in the house when she hears a knock at the door. An old flame, hunted and on the run, begs her to let him in. Does he bring love...or danger?


For Old Time's Sake 

By Essayel

Rating : R

Disclaimer : JKR, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury, Scholastic, yadda yadda yadda!

This fic was written in response to a challenge on the Hogwarts' Boudoir Group. The brief was to try to get in as many references from the following song as possible. I've never heard the song so have no idea of its overall tone. It may well be a light fluffy cheerful little song …but…!

SOMEBODY'S KNOCKIN'

Terri Gibbs 

Somebody's knockin' should I let him in, 

Lord it's the devil would you look at him

I've heard about him but I never dreamed, 

he'd have blue eyes and blue jeans

Well somebody's talkin', he's whispering to me, 

Your place or my place, well, which will it be

I'm gettin weaker and he's comin on strong, 

but I don't wanna go wrong

He must have tapped my telephone line, (or in this case floo-network)

he must have known I'm spendin' my time alone

He says we'll have one heavenly night, 

my fever's burnin', so he ought to right at home

Somebody's knockin' should I let him in, 

Lord it's the devil would you look at him

I've heard about him but I never dreamed, 

he'd have blue eyes and blue jeans

He must have tapped my telephone line, (see above)

he must have known I'm spendin' my time alone

He says we'll have one heavenly night, 

my fever's burnin, so he ought to right at home

Somebody's knockin', 

Somebody's knockin', 

Oh Somebody's knockin' 

**

For Old Time's Sake 

She had been feeling uneasy all day. Nothing specific, no visions or anything like that. No ominous groupings in her tea leaves. The crystal ball remained clear and unclouded. Even now, safe in her own home she felt it. Just an uneasiness. A sense of – being watched? She shrugged and pulled her dressing gown more closely around her. She was used to being watched…looks like hers attracted attention and, she thought, she wouldn't be human if she didn't enjoy it. But she was not enjoying this. Alone in the house tonight for the first time for weeks, she felt nervous and very grateful for the enchanted locks and excellent wards Petrus had had installed since the situation had become so much worse.

"I can't always be here," he had said, "and with Tancred and Amelia in school, I hate to think of you being here all alone. So, promise me, Lou, that you will always set them before going to bed." 

She had set them as usual tonight and felt comforted even though well aware that they would not stop a really determined attacker. But the wards would give an alarm if breached, she supposed, and she could run…or hide.

Sleep was out of the question, she was much too edgy, so she went to the mantelpiece and set her hands on either side of the crystal ball, peering hopefully down into it. Divination had been one of her best subjects at school – though since leaving she had found her gift more difficult to control. The responsibilities of being a wife and mother and of helping Petrus to run the business in addition to her own high profile career had dampened those occasional flashes of inspired precognition to these strange uneasy hunches. Luckily astrology was ninety five per cent calculation. Anybody could do that. Where she shone was in the ability to make the vague, broad predictions necessary to please her readers. She peered into the ball, mouthing a spell to concentrate her inner eye. But instead her inner eye reminded her of the prediction she had published as 'Madame Mercator' in that day's Prophet for her own star sign.

_Pisces_

A good day for reviewing one's priorities. A meeting with an old friend may herald changes in your situation. Romance is starred both for those in relationships and those seeking a soul mate. 

She smiled down at the distorted reflection in the ball. Everyday was a good day for reviewing one's priorities, after all, and the majority of Pisceans would be in contact with an old friend at some time during the next twenty-four hours. Romance, in her case, was out since Petrus was away on business but then one couldn't be right all the time.

The ball flickered, once, a flash like summer lightning. She started, looking more closely but the light was fading to the haziest mist, pale gold-green and glowing like sunlight through summer leaves. It reminded her of something –  something familiar - something she should remember - from long in the past? She cupped the icy crystal in her hands, stroking and coaxing.

"Show me," she whispered. "Show me what I need to know." But the misty light only wavered and died.

She was concentrating so hard that the knock on the door almost made her drop the ball. Hastily she set it back on the stand and turned to the hall.

The knock came again before she reached the door. Not loud but insistent. She frowned and glanced at the clock. Half past ten. Who would be calling at this time of night? Petrus would Floo and so would any of her friends. The children would send an owl unless … if something truly awful had happened to either of them, then a member of Hogwarts staff might…Her heart in her mouth she slipped her wand into her hand, lay her free hand upon the door and spoke the transparency charm to enable her to see her late night caller.

The little white witch light in the porch did not give much light…but it was enough. He was turned away from the door looking down the drive towards the yellow glare from the Muggle lights in the street. Obviously tense, obviously nervous, he tapped the door again and whispered her name.

Even without that she had known him. The set of his head on his shoulders, the tumble of curling black hair, the long fingered hand with it's scarred knuckles… all once so dear to her.

"Louisa," he whispered and she shivered. Nobody had ever said her name quite like that whether shouted, laughing, or, as now, whispered apparently in an extremity of fear. "Louisa, please, oh, please… Louisa."

Then he turned and she saw his face clearly for the first time for almost sixteen years. She gasped. At first sight he wasn't much changed – the absurd sweep of his lashes still shaded those brilliant blue eyes and his bones could never be less then beautiful – but, thrown into sharp relief by the witch light, she saw the gauntness of his cheeks, the lines of stress that bracketed eyes and mouth, the acid etching of pain between his brows.

His hand spread upon the door panel almost as though he could feel her own warm palm mirroring it through the ensorcelled timber and he looked straight into her eyes.

"Louisa, please," he said again. "If you're there, please. Oh, my darling, please let me in."

He had always been fascinated with Muggles, she recalled, useful in the career he had chosen, and few wizards had been able to blend as seamlessly into Muggle society. And here he was cowering in her porch, decent wizard garb discarded in favour of his favourite disreputable Muggle disguise. Louisa closed her eyes remembering – suddenly the filtered green light in the ball made sense. He had been dressed like this on that summer's day when he had driven her up into the hills. He had parked the bike in a lane, lifted her over a stile and walked her up into sweet green beech woods. There the sun had shone green through the beech leaves scattering their bare skins with gold as the breeze blew, as they lay together for the first time, as she heard him moan her name in passion.

"Louisa," he pleaded. "I promise you ...I promise. "

Louisa opened her eyes. He was looking over his shoulder again, both hands now on the door panel, fingers flexing nervously. At the bottom of the drive was a movement and he turned back towards her, eyes enormous, pressing towards the door as though to make himself part of it.

"Louisa," he begged, his voice breaking.

She backed off a pace or two, shaking her head, one hand over her mouth. How could she let him in? Once much beloved, he had become anathema, hated and reviled. Fallen from grace, fallen so low. He moaned her name again and she replied with a sob and opened the door.

*

She had forgotten how fast he could move. He was inside, the door closed behind him and the wards back up almost before she had drawn breath to say his name. Then he stood with his back to the door looking down at her.

"Sirius," she whispered. "Why are you here?"

"For old time's sake," he said, a tremulous smile on his lips. "Why did you let me in?"

"For old time's sake," she repeated and, lost for anything else to say, made a gracious gesture of welcome, drawing him after her into the warmly lit sitting room. He halted briefly at the doorway, eyes darting around the room suspiciously, then stepped inside and across to the fire, extending his hands to the flames with a sigh.

"That's better," he breathed. "I've been cold for so long."

"Sirius," Louisa said the word again, as though trying it for the fit against her lips. "After all this time, why are you here?"

He didn't reply but lifted the crystal ball from its stand and gave a short laugh.

"I remember this," he said. "Did it warn you? Did it give you visions? Did it show you an image of peril?"

"No," she replied.

He snorted and dropped the ball onto the hearthrug then turned to face her and she saw that his eyes were overbright.

 "I thought you were gone, lost like so many others, until today. Until I saw you in the street." He paused his eyes searching hers. "I had to come. I followed you and I've been waiting, watching the house all day. I just wanted to …to see you once again. To tell you the truth."

Louisa stared back at him, her eyes desolate. "Sirius," she whispered. "Where have you been all this time?"

"Running. Hiding. Trying to find some way of clearing my name."

"Are you trying to tell me you didn't do it? Are you trying to tell me that it was all a lie? That you went to Azkaban for nothing?"

He flinched at the name, the lines around his eyes deepening. "One night, Louisa, that's all I ask. One night to tell you the truth. Just one night of peace and warmth before I go on again."

Louisa stared at him. "Sirius, I never believed it of you," she said. "I never believed what they said. I tried to get in to see you, I tried to speak to the Ministry, the MLES, I went to Auror HQ, I even applied to Azkaban for visiting rights…I was refused. Even the _Lestranges_ were allowed visitors." She gave a sob. "I believed in you, I waited but… but …I got lonely."

"The truth," Sirius sighed. "You have made a good life for yourself. I shouldn't even be here but – I had to see you." He raised his hand hesitantly and, when she didn't move away, took the hand that held the wand and raised it to his lips. "I knew that if anybody would believe me it would be you," he murmured, his lips against her skin. She shivered, the contact bringing back so many memories, and raised her other hand to cup his cheek. "I've been lonely too," she whispered. " Lonely for you." 

He met her eyes and took the wand from her hand and set it aside on the mantelpiece.

She stepped into the circle of his arms and reached up to run her hand through his hair.

"Oh, I've missed you," she whispered. "I've missed you so much." She drew his head down to hers and brushed her lips across his. He drew a sharp breath then his hands were gripping her and his mouth covered hers hungrily. She parted her lips to the caress of his tongue and pressed her body to his feeling the rapid beat of his heart against her breast.

He broke off the kiss to gasp her name again. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice broken and husky. "It's been so long …"

"Sssh," she kissed him again and slid the jacket down his arms and tossed it onto the couch then slipped her hands under the hem of his shirt, running her fingers over his prominent ribs and gathering the material to slide it off over his head. He shivered, even though the room was warm, and she smiled up at him.

"Don't worry," she said. "It's like riding a broomstick … you never forget." He gave a short laugh at that and dropped his hands to untie her belt, opening her gown and pushing it from her shoulders.

"You are so…" he began then stopped lost for words.

"So are you," she replied and began to unbuckle his belt. He set his hands on her shoulders, looking down and watching as she undid the buttons one by one. Louisa smiled and knelt to remove his boots then eased the heavy blue material over his hip bones and down his long legs. He stepped out of the garments and stood firelit, his pale skin glowing in the amber light. She looked up at him and sighed.

"You are far too thin," she said, running her hands up his flanks.

"Really?" he asked with a breath of laughter.

"No, " she said, moving her hands to his flat belly then trailing her fingers down from his navel to stroke the proud length of him. "Not where it counts."

He gasped again at her touch and dropped to his knees, pushing her back onto the rug, sliding his hands under her nightgown to part her thighs. Even as he settled between them he was sobbing her name. 

Louisa laughed and gripped him, guiding him home. This had happened before. Life as an Auror had been hard for him. There had been times he had had to do things that he found almost unbearable and he had come home to her desperate for some kind of refuge, some kind of release. She wrapped him in a warm embrace and murmured reassurance as he heaved and gasped. Too desperate to be moderate, overwhelmed, it didn't take very long until he cried out, spending his fear and tension in her warm body. He collapsed, burying his face against her shoulder and she lay still, watching the play of light on the ceiling, and held him until he stopped shaking and raised his head.

"That," he said, "was unforgivable."

"No, not unforgivable." She smiled and stroked his hair back from his face, "– but very, very quick."

"Maybe if I tried again…" he suggested.

"There's no hurry," she whispered. "We have all night."

*

Moving to her bedroom with a small selection of foodstuffs and a bottle of wine took hardly any time at all. It was far more difficult to persuade Sirius to eat. He picked at the food uncomfortably until she relented and set the plate aside but he did agree to downing a glass of wine. The rich red vintage seemed to slide down easily enough, so she poured more for him. His cheeks flushed with warmth and wine, he shook his head.

"I couldn't," he said.  "I'm not used to it."

"Oh, go on," she coaxed. "To please me."

"Now, that's a much better idea," he grinned and leaned over her scattering crimson drops over her throat and shoulders and chasing them with an agile tongue. 

Louisa gasped and laughed as he kicked away the covers and trailed dripping fingertips across her stomach. "Ow," she squealed. "That's cold."

"This isn't," he laughed and ducked his head. She fell silent as his mouth skirted around her navel and down, then let out her breath in a long sigh. She studied his intent profile as he lifted her knee and pushed it aside. The single-mindedness that he had applied to his profession, that at school he had applied to mischief, he also applied to other activities and now all his attention was directed solely to her pleasure. He slid down a little, rubbing his cheek against the sensitive spot on the inside of her thigh, then kissed her. Louisa closed her eyes and gave herself up to the sensation for a moment, feeling tears gathering. Then she opened them again and smiled. She reached down to stroke his hair, ran her hands across his shoulders and down his back. 

"You said you'd try again," she reminded him.

"But I haven't finished," he murmured, the movement of his lips making her shudder. She tugged his hair gently. "Please," she whispered. "I want to be looking into your eyes – not down your ear." 

His soft laugh made her shudder again, but he turned onto his back, carrying her with him and sitting her up. The he lay back, looking up at her. "I'm yours," he said. "Do with me as you will."

Louisa looked soberly down at him and scooted back a little until she was astride his knees, then she grinned, seized the bottle and upended it, ignoring his howl of outrage.

"Gigondas and goosebumps," she murmured, licking her lips. "Yum."

*

She watched him sleep. Amid the wreckage of the bed, he seemed to be younger, the lines of stress easing as he relaxed. Sprawled on his front, one arm over his head and the other around her waist she relished the warm weight of him against her side. Lips slightly parted he gave a gentle snore and Louisa smiled. No wonder he was tired. He had, as the saying went, given his all and, she knew from experience, would sleep until morning. How long had it been, she wondered, since she had seen him like this? October '81. She had been called away at the end of the month and he had been upset. She moved his hair back from his lips and bent to press the gentlest of kisses to his cheek. Then she wriggled out from under his flaccid arm and reached for her dressing gown.

The fire in the sitting room was still crackling merrily as she knelt on the hearthrug and reached for a pinch of Floo powder.

"Malfoy Manor, East Wing", she said as the flames burst into lurid green sparks. In only a few moments the man she wanted was to be seen, the pale dissolute face twisting into an appreciative smile.

"Louisa," he greeted. "That's a very fetching gown you're almost wearing. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Lucius," she smiled and blew him a kiss. "Sorry to be disturbing you so late but is our mutual friend with you by any chance?"

"Of course," Lucius turned his head and spoke softly then another face appeared beside his in the embers.

Peter Pettigrew moistened his lips nervously. "What do you want, Louisa?" he demanded. "You know you shouldn't be trying to contact me."

Louisa pouted at them. "But I have such exciting news. Peter, guess who's sleeping in my bed?"

"Who?" Peter asked but Lucius cut across him. "We have no time for guessing games," he snapped. "Tell us."

"Only Sirius Black," she said triumphantly. 

"Black!" Peter sounded horrified but Lucius merely laughed.

"You expect us to believe that you have captured Black and calmly tucked him up in bed?  With cocoa and a hot water bottle, no doubt."

"No, with a very nice Cotes du Rhone vintage and me. He appeared on my doorstep, quivering with funk and begging to be allowed in to explain himself so I let him in and - um -  made him welcome… for old time's sake. He'll sleep for hours." Louisa sat back on her heels. "Well, what do you want me to do with him? Do you want him as a little present for our lord and master?"

Lucius exchanged a look with Peter. "It's tempting," he said. "If we could let it be known in the right quarters that we had brought him in… The Potter boy would be distraught. That pathetic werewolf would be heartbroken."

"No," Peter protested. "He's too dangerous. Louisa, get him out of there. Better still, get yourself out. If he ever found out that you and I had been working together…run and hide and call the authorities."

"I have to agree with Peter," Lucius said. "Call Auror HQ and by this time tomorrow he'll be a drooling hulk. Then we can let it be known that he was a blameless innocent, robbed of his soul by the narrow minded injustice of those supposedly set to defend us. The Potter boy will be distraught. That pathetic werewolf will be heartbroken and – big bonus – Dumbledore will know that he badly misjudged one of his own cherished prodigies…a much better result altogether. Just don't delay. Call the Aurors now."

Louisa sighed. "But I was looking forward to waking him up. Don't you think there's a lovely symmetry to it? Allowing him to step from my arms into those of a Dementor. Besides, I'm not sure I've finished with him yet. Loyalty to You Know Who apart, Petrus is a sweet, good-natured, reliable, _predictable_ man and since you seem to be too busy to visit me any more, Lucius, I felt the need for a little excitement. And, let me tell you, he's every bit as exciting as I remembered!"

"You cold hearted bitch," Lucius said approvingly. "Very well, have your fun. I'll … um …be thinking of you."

"Don't be stupid," Peter said. "Get rid of him now."

"I'll consider it," Louisa said. "Night night."

The green-tinged flames died down to their usual apricot and she stared into the red caverns at the heart of the fire. Peter had a point, she supposed. The months she had spent as Sirius live-in lover had been fulfilling beyond belief. Between them, she and Peter had played him like a harp. Alone neither of them could have made his loyalty to the monster waver in the slightest but together the little comments, the half truths, had added up until Sirius was so confused by the conflicting demands of what he knew in his head and what he felt in his heart, that he no longer even trusted himself. Louisa smiled. She had been incredibly lucky. She had won great respect and trust in the echelons of He Who Must Not Be Named's organisation for accepting such a potentially dangerous assignment. The fact that she had also shared Sirius bed was the most amazing bonus. Still, all good things come to an end. She had promised Sirius one night but she had broken promises before.

She tousled her hair, dropped her robe from one shoulder and rubbed her eyes vigorously until they teared, then reached for the powder again.

"Auror Headquarters," she said clearly.

"Recon and Surveillance, Office 24," a calm voice added.

Louisa spun around losing her balance. Sirius was walking slowly towards her, his face terrifying in it's desolation but his eyes were upon the flames.

"Did you get that?" he asked.

"Every damnable word of it," came the reply. The fire belched great gouts of smoke and a heavy-set figure stepped out onto the hearth. He stepped over Louisa and stooped to catch her arm and raise her to her feet. "I'm sorry, boy," he said. "I'm so sorry. Now – er – how about putting some clothes on."

"The things I do for my country, eh, Moody?" Sirius voice was deadly quiet. He stooped to pull on his jeans and boots. Stooped again for his t-shirt and jacket, and, when he straightened up the crystal was in his hand. He extracted another from his jacket pocket and set it in the stand on the mantelpiece then tossed the one from the floor into Moody's free hand. "That should have a readily identifiable image of Pettigrew," he said, "amongst other things. I'd appreciate it if you were fairly selective in who you invite to watch it."

"Bloody exhibitionist." Moody sighed and pocketed the crystal. "Now, Mrs Mercator, I'm afraid that you have to come with me. Under the 1979 Prevention of Magical Terrorism Act, I must warn you that you are under arrest and that anything you say may be taken in evidence." 

Louisa, stunned, had been transfixed by the look in Sirius eyes but this caught her attention and she finally managed to recover her voice. Gasping, she said the first thing that came into her head. "You were asleep," she cried. "You were asleep."

Sirius was pulling his shirt on and avoided her eyes. "I gave up sleeping in …prison," he said, dully. "An ex-Auror shut up with the people he helped to put away suffers some nasty surprises when he lets his guard down. Moody can I go now? I'll go straight back to Dumbledore, I promise." 

"Absolutely not," Moody snapped. "I'm not having you haring off to the Manor to twist that little rat, Pettigrew's, neck. I want you under my eye."

"No," Louisa struggled against Moody's grasp. "You can't arrest me. Where are you taking me?"

"I can arrest you," Moody growled. "We've been watching you for over a year. The code in your horoscopes was broken six months ago. All your Floo calls for the past seven days have been monitored but we needed that little bit more." He paused and gave a grim nod towards Sirius. "Taken with tonight's evidence and Mr Black's testimony, I feel that I should tell you to prepare yourself for the consequences."

Louisa gaped at him. "You can't," she said, horrified. "Not Azkaban."

Sirius flinched and looked up from where he was putting on his jacket 

"Petrus Mercator is a good man," he said. "Tancred and Amelia  are good children. They both show promise."

"So?" Moody looked speculatively at him.

"So, what will a show trial and a wife and mother in – in  - that place do to them?"

"No good at all," Moody said sadly.

"Sirius," Louise stretched her hands out imploringly. "Please, not Azkaban. Send me away, shut me up, I don't care, but _not there_."

"No," Sirius took her hands and nodded to Moody to release her. "I couldn't do that to you." He looked over her head and met Moody's eyes. The magical one burned crazily but his ordinary one softened and the old Auror gave a sharp nod. Sirius sucked in a sharp breath. "For old time's sake, Louisa." 

Louisa smiled up at him but his eyes were as cold as a desert night.

"Sirius?" she faltered, then screamed. "No, you devil. You devil."

"I'm only what you made me," he said softly as he opened his strong hands and let her body fall.

*

As they left the building, Moody shook his head.

"I'm impressed," he said. "I knew you were good but I didn't think you had it in you to be that ruthless."

"Neither did I," Sirius murmured, his eyes on the ground. "Can I go, now?"

Moody grunted, pursing his lips, then shook his head. "No, debriefing first, then you get delivered like always. Come on, you know the drill."

Sirius hesitated for a moment then extended his wrists and shuddered as the magical gyves locked about them and he felt his ability to transfigure drain away. 

Moody sighed and patted his shoulder. "It's for your own protection," he said gruffly. He gripped the chain and led Sirius down the drive to where the back-up was waiting then he turned and looked back at the house. He pointed his wand skyward. "Morsmordre," he said and the Mercator house and its pretty garden were suddenly bathed in a misty green light – very similar to that of sunlight through green leaves. 

*

END

*


End file.
